An Arduous Road
by Mithnen
Summary: Aragorn leaves Imladris with the Gray Company and finds that Halbarad has an especial disliking for him. How dangerous will the road to their friendship be?


Aragorn rode silently. He could sense the animosity between Halbarad and himself. The two of them were the youngest in the Company, though Aragorn was treated more as an adult for his direct link to Isildur. He cleared his throat and glanced at Halabarad out of the corner of his eye. The other young man was looking straight ahead, jaw clenched, and fists tightly gripping the reigns. Why did he hate him so?   
  
Given the choice, Aragorn would have chosen to ride with the Gray Company his whole life, as Halbarad had. Unfortunately for him, Gilraen had chosen for him to stay in Imladris. Could Halbarad not comprehend this? Was he destined to despise him? Aragorn could not know the answers, only Halbarad could and he would never share them.  
  
The sun was slowly sinking into the West. Aragorn looked to his right and found that the sky was already turning a light shade of purple. The Company would stop and set up camp soon, for twilight was nearly upon them and they all knew that in these days it was unsafe to travel much later than dusk.  
  
Halmacar, at the head of the troupe, raised his hand as a signal for them to slow their horses. Halmacar was Halbarad's father, a sensible man and a loyal servant to the True King: Aragorn. This had to be the reason Halbarad loathed Aragorn so much. Taking that into consideration, Aragorn understood the animosity Halbarad had created between them.  
  
"My brothers," Halmacar started, turning his steed to face the Company. "Night will soon fall upon us. It is in my personal opinion that we stop here for the night." He looked expectantly at Aragorn. All other eyes of the Company were on him as well, all except those of Halbarad who still looked intently towards the North.  
  
Aragorn's eyes widened and his eyebrows rose in surprise. He had never been asked to make a decision before. In Rivendell, Elrohir and Elladan had always decided things for him, as is the unwritten right of elder siblings. This new development didn't fully generate until Halbarad looked at, and spoke to, him for the first time. "Say something." He hissed quietly after a long pause within the band of men.  
  
"We shall, uh, rest here tonight," Aragorn said, quite hesitantly as a matter of fact. "I guess." He noticed Halbarad stifle a laugh as he lowered his head. A look of disgust and aversion crossed Aragorn's face as they all dismounted. Did Halbarad think he was better than him? Such arrogance, Aragorn thought, gets irritating after a while.  
  
Aragorn pulled his woven blanket out of his saddlebag. He led his horse, Edhelath away from the large troupe to lay his blanket out over the flat land. As he passed Halbarad, the other young man purposefully shoved himself into Aragorn, making him drop his blanket. They both bent to pick up the young King's mantle, but Aragorn got there first. As he laid his hand on it, Halbarad gripped Aragorn's hand and looked him straight in the eye. "Just because you are the Heir of Isildur," he began menacingly, "does not mean that you can waltz into the Company and have my respect."  
  
"Halbarad, listen-"   
  
"No," he interred. "You have my father wrapped around your little finger. Already, you have more than I do. You will not have me, King of Swine. You've done nothing to earn what you have received." With these last words, Halbarad stood before Aragorn and spat on the ground in front of him.   
  
  
Aragorn, new to his royalty as he was, did not have any response to Halbarad's disrespectful outburst. He was dumbstruck, utterly speechless. The young King did not speak much in any circumstance, but this was such a new concept that his mind seemed not to even be functioning. That's when you know that you've been out-witted: when neither your mouth nor your mind can form words. Aragorn had been out-witted.   
  
The moon had risen and the cosmos were shining with a pale brilliance that reminded Aragorn of Imladris. He missed his adopted father, Elrond and his foster-brothers, Elladan and Elrohir with a pain that shot through his heart like an arrow. How were they faring? What visitors had come upon them in these past three weeks? Was Elrohir's courtship of Aranen lucrative? Aragorn sighed and repositioned himself onto his back. Edhelath was still nearby, watching the darkness with complete vigilance.   
  
Suddenly, a piercing cry rang out through the night a split-second after Edhelath sprang to his feet and screamed loudly. Aragorn tried to calm his steed, but chaos suddenly surrounded him. Bands of raiding orcs had spotted their fires and were now attacking all the men around them. Aragorn abandoned Edhelath and rushed into the fray, his blade already drawn against the vermin of evil.  
The sound of steel against steel rang through the rest of the night. Many men had been slain, but not nearly in the numbers of the orcs. The orange light of the rising sun shone on Halbarad's face, accenting his handsome, youthful features. He breathed heavily and sweat dripped down the side of his face. They had been fighting for nearly seven hours and all the men were exhausted.   
  
Halbarad searched the crowd of men and regretably saw the face of Aragorn among them. "Pity." Halbarad muttered to himself. He looked around at the men that surrounded him. They were all glancing worriedly at him, then turning away and looking at Aragorn. Halbarad eyed him with contempt, making no effort to hide his derision. He saw the sorrowful look on Aragorn's face, yet Halbarad's eyes did not cease in their harsh judgement.  
  
He watched Aragorn approach him as all eyes followed his footsteps. As he neared Halbarad, Aragorn placed his hand on his enemy's arm and looked him fearlessly in the eyes. It seemed to Halbarad that Aragorn had forgotten all that had been said the night before, though he could not forgive him for taking his father's favor. He looked down at the hand that rested upon his arm, then, only moving his eyes, Halbarad stared back up at Aragorn.  
  
"What new amity is this?"  
  
With a sigh, Aragorn replied, "Your father, he was slain during the night."  
  
The sentence had barely escaped the other lad's lips before Halbarad tore away from him and turned to face the empty Northern wildland. No, it could not be true. Halmacar, the Chief of the Dunédain was not dead, he could not be dead. A wild rush of emotion overcame him as he fell to his knees. He buried his face in his hands and wept. An inhuman cry escaped his lips, letting all who surrounded him the anguish and pain he felt. He sensed a gentle, yet strong hand grasp his shoulder from behind.   
  
He looked up at Aragorn through the mist of tears that had veiled his eyes. His vision suddenly went red with anger.  
  
"Halbarad, I am truly sorry," Aragorn started. "I understand your grief, but-"  
  
"You could not possibly understand," Halbarad replied quietly, turning back to the emptiness.  
  
"Perhaps I am aware of more than you think." Aragorn whispered so quietly that no other but the two of them heard his words.  
  
Halbarad jumped up, his right hand still balled into a fist, and hit Aragorn squarely on the jaw. Aragorn fell back, blood was already starting to trickle dwon his chin from his mouth. Halbarad jumped on him before any other man could offer restraint. The two young men rolled around the ground, exchanging blows to each other's faces, stomachs, and anywhere else their fists could reach. After a moment or two, four men managed to pull the boys off each other and hold them at bay by their forearms.  
  
"How can you presume that you understand anything about me?" Halbarad cried at Aragorn.  
  
"I understand that you loved your father and he loved you!" Aragorn retorted.  
  
"You took his love from me!"  
  
"I took nothing!"  
  
"Save his favor!"  
  
"If you cared, you could have very well taken it from me!" He had said it. Aragorn was tired of denying that Halbarad's father had taken a direct liking to him. It was true, Halmacar and had oft ignored his own son in Aragorn's presence. Halbarad had noticed this and blamed Aragorn for it. Well, if he wanted to believe a lie, Aragorn was not going to stop him. He would be Halbarad's king whether the other youth recognized him or not.  
  
Halbarad tore away from the othr mens' hold and paced up and down in front of them. All seemed calm as the other men released Aragorn; but then Halbarad pounced once again, knocking Aragorn to the ground. This time, Aragorn was the one who was pulled off Halbarad.  
  
"Fine!" Aragorn shouted at the dejected, yet anguished expression on Halbarad's face. "I am not going to deny you your hate, Halbarad!" He ripped away from the men constraining him and started walking towards the river that ran about 200 meters away from their camp. Halbarad wrenched himself from the grasps of the other men and stared at Aragorn as he walked swiftly to the river. 


End file.
